


Clouds

by CrimeAlley1048



Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman and Robin (Comics), Grayson (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5083789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimeAlley1048/pseuds/CrimeAlley1048
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian vs rainy afternoons</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clouds

Sometimes Damian wished for thunderstorms. Lightning felt like running to him: fast across the rooftops, short breath and adrenaline, blink, and gone— then thunder echoing across the city, crashing from the sky, the ground beneath him, and his own chest. Spinning, lightheaded, powerful. Heart beating too fast. Figures caught for a split second in the wind and the wet, capes blown out behind them.  
By itself, the rain was awful. It made everything slower— minutes and hours and his own heartbeat. It was hard to think while there was rain dripping down his windows. He couldn’t drown out the sound, so he lay on the couch listening, staring at the ceiling, unable to move more than his fingers, which tapped out the rhythm of the rainfall. After a while, even that was hard.  
He wished the sunlight would come back, or at least the dark. Anything except the rain-gray. He hated it.  
Damian pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and threw it over his head, curling into the cushions. It was better under there— darker and warm— but he could still hear the rain on the window. He tried to take deep breaths, but his lungs couldn’t quite seem to manage it. The air caught halfway instead and stuck in his throat— he gave up and lay quietly.  
Some weeks did that to you, even without the rain.  
There were footsteps in the hall. Damian stayed under his blanket, hoping that whoever it was knew enough to leave him alone. He wasn’t in the mood to talk. Luckily, the steps stopped at the doorway— Damian felt something small hit his back, and then they retreated toward the kitchen.  
He poked his head out of the blanket and found his headphones lying on the floor. Oh. He’d left those on the dining table. That was probably Drake returning them— he liked to work in that room.  
Damian ducked back underneath his blanket and rolled onto his stomach, smushing his face into a decorative pillow. He let one of his arms fall off of the couch, trailing his fingers across the floor— the stone immediately started to leach away the heat in his hand. He couldn’t find the energy to move, even when a second pair of footsteps started coming down the hall, so he closed his eyes instead and pretended to be asleep.  
This time, the steps came inside the room, crouched briefly in front of Damian’s couch, and left. He heard humming once they hit the hallway— Grayson, then. When he looked down, there was a cup of tea sitting on the floor, steaming gently. He wrapped his fingers around the mug, grateful for the warmth against his numb hand.  
How much longer could the rain last? It had been days. He couldn’t relax with the constant tapping— it drove his brain in circles and kept him on alert all night. He eyed his headphones on the floor, wishing they were a few inches closer. Maybe if he waited long enough he would feel like standing up to get them. Maybe if he waited long enough the rain would stop.  
Maybe if he waited long enough the rest of the household would _stop coming into the room_ — there were footsteps in the hallway again, too heavy to be Grayson or Drake. Damian didn’t even bother closing his eyes this time— just watched Todd walk through the door without even looking at Damian’s couch. He set a plate of something that smelled like cinnamon and pumpkin on the coffee table and left, pulling the door closed behind him.  
Fine. Damian slid off the couch, teetering a little bit on stiff legs, and went to retrieve his plate. He scooped up his headphones on his way to the coffee table and plugged them into his phone, cranking his music up until he couldn’t hear the rain anymore. It was easier after that.  
He settled down on the couch again, clutching his tea in blanket-wrapped hands. Why was Todd even in the house? He always seemed to be hanging around lately. Maybe he was there for the kitchen— Damian wouldn’t complain about that, because Todd’s food was good: pies and gumbos and pumpkin bread. It made the entire manor smell like Autumn.  
Damian sat on his couch, cross-legged and munching on pumpkin bread, watching the rain drip down the windowpanes. He might be there for a while, he figured, but that was fine. He felt better now.


End file.
